


Murphy's Assfuck - AKA Dave's Bad Day

by Rimbaum



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Drug Use, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 07:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rimbaum/pseuds/Rimbaum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave has a bad day and comes home to find Bro smoking a joint. Bro offers to share, makeouts ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Murphy's Assfuck - AKA Dave's Bad Day

The day has been nothing but total shit. Fucktards at school decided to try and take you on in a fight, and when you beat their asses ten ways to Sunday you got suspended. Again. How exactly did they expect you to keep up with your schoolwork when you're never allowed to go in to school? Because they still expected it to get done, every single time.

And you've never taken the _bus_ to school because what kind of loser did that? You kind of wish today was one of those days you did, though, because fuck if your city bus pass hadn't been left in your other coat pocket and a torrential downpour looked imminent.

Sure enough, Murphy must have decided to assfuck you pretty hard because yeah, torrential downpour, no umbrella, and fucking lightning. At least you wouldn't have to deal with a rooftop strife when you got home to an apartment building with a broken elevator. Top floor, thirty flights of squishy socks inside squishy shoes, coming right up.

When you open up the door to the apartment, something's off. It smells like smoke, and you bristle, getting ready to grab some of your shit and go, because a fucking apartment fire from one of Bro's smuppets being left on top of the stove would be _just_ the way to end the day, wouldn't it? But after a moment, you deduce that it's not fire smoke. It's something a bit different than that, but still kind of rank.

"Bro?" You look towards the futon, spotting a familiar head of bright blond hair and it helps you relax just a little. Whenever he takes his cap off, he's trying to just chill out. No strife at all to worry about, then.

"Sup little man?" As you drop your soaking wet backpack on the floor and move closer to the futon, you can see that the source of that weird smoky smell is from a joint that Bro's got in his hand.

You've never seen Bro smoke weed before. And of course you know it's weed, what else would it fucking be? It sure as hell isn't a cigarette or a cigar, and you're pretty sure that Bro would need a pipe of some sort to be smoking crack. But you don't want to draw attention to it, either. You don't know what your brother might be like when he's high, and you'd rather stick to his good side.

"Got suspended from school again, then God took a piss on me on the walk home." You can't help but keep eyeing the joint, though, curious as to how much better it might make your day feel. You've stolen a cigarette or two, and the nicotine rush was pretty sweet at calming your nerves, but weed wouldn't be the same, would it?

Even with your shades on, Bro must know where your gaze keeps wandering, because he smirks and offers you the joint. "Sucks, man. You wanna share?"

A "Fuck yes" slips past you before you even have a chance to think about it, and you flop down on the futon and take the joint from your Bro. Holding it is a bit different than a cigarette, but you inhale anyways. Right away, you're grateful that you've at least had _some_ smoking experience of some sort, because that smoke is a bit different and it makes you want to cough, but you hold it in for a few seconds before exhaling anyways.

Your brother takes a drag off it before passing it to you again, and you concentrate on taking turns until a pleasantly warm, fuzzy feeling seems to wrap itself around your brain. Like someone's replaced your brain with cotton balls, almost.

Bro puts the joint out, and for a moment you wonder why before shrugging it off. It's his weed, whatever. "Feeling better, bro?" His voice sounds rich and warm, familiar and comforting and basically fucking beautiful.

"Yeah. I ever tell you how fucking beautiful you are?" And it's true - he's got an awesome body from strifing with you so often, if he didn't wear a hat all the fucking time he'd have nice soft hair that wasn't plastered to his head, and his eyes... Fuck. Just as freaky as yours and you're certain that if he whipped his shades off they'd be gorgeous, too.

He turns to look at you, ruffling your hair. "We're Striders, of course we're beautiful. Good looks run in the family." Was that a compliment? You can't tell. But you cuddle up against him because he's warm and you're soaked to the bone and freezing cold.

"Gross, dude. Your clothes feel like the plaster shit to repair walls, take 'em off."

It doesn't seem weird at all to strip down to your boxers, even though those are pretty wet too, but at least he lets you cuddle up with him again and you sit in warm, fuzzy silence. When he rubs your back and side, it's just to warm you up, no big deal. You don't even complain when he pushes you down onto the futon and straddles your hips, because looking up at him makes you realize how gorgeous he really is, and making out with him seems like a _really good idea._

His lips are really warm on yours, and even though your glasses clink at weird angles, it's pretty damn nice. Not your first kiss, but definitely your best. Of course it's your best, because Bro is the best at fucking everything.

Fucking. Everything. Yeah...

So what if he's reaching into your boxers, his hand's hot and it feels good to buck your hips up into that heat, have it surround you and bring you _so fucking close_ you almost can't stand it, but then he pulls away and leaves you a fucking wreck on the couch.

"Fuck. Bro. C'mon. Gimme more."

You see him striking a match and relighting the joint again to finish off the rest. "Here. Keep smoking for a few minutes and I'll think about it, all right?"

Still aching, you do as he says. It only takes a few passes between you before he lets you cuddle up against him again, and even though you're not quite as close when he inhales that smoke one last time, it's just as awesome to have his hand on you again.

"Bro..." Fuck you sound like a porn star when you moan out his name like that. At least, you hope you do. That's what gets him going, right? Whatever, it gets him moving his hand faster, making every inch of your skin feel like it's on fire until you're coming _really damn hard._

You smile a little as you pile yourself into Bro's lap, curling up and letting him wrap his arms around you. After all that, today didn't seem quite so bad.


End file.
